


raise my hands (paint my spirit gold)

by seaqueen



Series: 2018 Stanley Cup Champions Collection [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Boys in love and in joy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaqueen/pseuds/seaqueen
Summary: He fists his hands in the front of his shirt and hauls him over the Cup unsteadily to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated and uncaring of all of it. Alex, bright eyed vindicated and beautiful Alex, who melts into it and tangles a hand in the wet curls at the back of Nicke’s head and only barely keeps his grip on the Cup until Kemper swoops in to rescue it. And then Nicke is hauled against the heat of his body and Alex’s hands are low around his back and he’s being kissed more thoroughly and desperately then he ever has in his life; his team whistling and clapping around him on all sides.They break apart with chests heaving for air, and when Nicke looks Alex isburningwith it, fierce joy and agonizing victory painted in every line of his body and Nicke loves him so, so much.





	raise my hands (paint my spirit gold)

**Author's Note:**

> _they're fucking stanley cup champions_

The world hasn’t stopped screaming since the moment the buzzer sounded.

Nicke can hear it echoing in his ears still - drowned out by the joyful roar of Alex’s voice, by the team’s tears and cheers and everything in between - and not of it feels quite real, yet. They’ve worked so long and so hard for this, never quite come close _enough_ and Nicke feels like the moment he closes his eyes it’s all going to slip away through his fingers and he’ll be right back in the press box in Pittsburgh, forced to watch the Penguins celebrate and his team skate away in devastation, once again.

He has held the Stanley Cup in his hands.

He has hoisted its featherlight and too heavy all at once weight above his head.

He has touched its hallowed silver, heard the roar and the bliss of joy roared at him from all sides as he skates with it held high - and as always, right where he was meant to be, the heat of Alex at his side.

By the time Nicke makes it off the ice it still feels like a daze, in the locker room greeted on all sides by what feels like every member of the organization, by champagne sprayed from every side in a fine mist that drenched him to the bone before he’s three steps into the room. Everything smells like beer and like alcohol but it barely penetrates the delirious joy that fizzes out from the core of his being. He’s out of his gear and into the champion branded clothing shoved in his direction by a staffer.

The crescendo builds - a low hum that builds and builds and _builds_ until it’s echoing from every throat and every person and then there’s Alex; still holding the Cup like he’s never going to let it go. He comes charging into the room too full of energy to be contained within his skin - their leader, their center, their _heart_ and the team, already out of control, only feeds off him. Someone puts a bottle of champagne in his hands and Nicke’s face hurts from smiling as he guzzles it, laughing and falling over himself as he hugs whatever teammate he can get his arms around nearest to him.

“Nicke! Nicke!” Alex roars, Cup on the ground at his feet and a bottle of champagne in his massive paws too, turned upended and golden. And who is Nicke to resist that?

It sloshes over the sides and he just opens his mouth for all of it uncaring; drenched and laughing. It drips in his hair and down the front of his shirt, his beard dripping and sloppy but god, Nicke can’t care as Alex lifts it away from him still laughing and bright eyed. And Nicke can do nothing but swallow what’s left in his mouth and surge to his feet and kiss him.

He fists his hands in the front of his shirt and hauls him over the Cup unsteadily to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated and uncaring of all of it. Alex, bright eyed vindicated and beautiful Alex, who melts into it and tangles a hand in the wet curls at the back of Nicke’s head and only barely keeps his grip on the Cup until Kemper swoops in to rescue it. And then Nicke is hauled against the heat of his body and Alex’s hands are low around his back and he’s being kissed more thoroughly and desperately then he ever has in his life; his team whistling and clapping around him on all sides.

They break apart with chests heaving for air, and when Nicke looks Alex is _burning_ with it, fierce joy and agonizing victory painted in every line of his body and Nicke loves him so, so much.

_X_

If pressed, Nicke can’t honestly say he remembers the journey from the arena to the bus to the hotel beyond the cadence of Alex’s voice behind him where he films himself and the Cup. It’s all a blur of team voices and warmth, and more emotion than he could ever hope to contain within his chest. Alex holds the Cup out to him and Nicke takes it, closes a hand around it and hoists it alongside his captain and they carry it inside to see their families and all the people who have been there for the team through thick and thin since they were small and to who they owe everything.

But the most important person in his life, the man to who Nicke gave his heart away long ago, is at his side.

_X_

The party is in full swing in the ballroom, food and yet more alcohol in every direction Nicke turns. He’s smiled for more pictures and hugged more people than he can count; and through it all his chest hums warmly beyond his control because they’ve _done it._ They’re _Stanley Cup Champions_.

Alex is the center of everyone’s attention, the heart and soul of the party and of all of them, and Nicke is content to hang back and let him. He deserves every moment of it as he hauls the Cup around with him barely pausing to eat or to drink in his euphoria.

Nicke can’t look away from him. He’s mesmerizing.

Behind all of it the music continues to play and some of the kids are dancing - he’s not surprised to see Andre and Christian and Tom in the thick of them, swinging Lucca and Lyla around to their screaming delight as Tom hoists Leni onto his shoulders as she tugs on his hair - and he’s distracted for a moment by it enough that he misses Alex’s approach until he’s nearly on top of him.

Nicke recognizes the press of him immediately as Alex molds himself against his back and the warm brush of his lips to the back of Nicke’s neck. It’s the easiest thing in the world to melt into that hold and Alex laughs huskily against his ear. “Nicke.” The captain murmurs, kissing the pulse point of his neck as Nicke’s head lolls. “Eleven years, Backy.” Alex whispers and Nicke whines softly, high and pitched in the back of his throat. “Eleven years, but we’re here, you and me.”

He turns around in Alex’s arms, the rest of the party and the world forgotten as he stares up into fiercely joyful blue eyes he knows so well. Everything narrows down to them - a small stolen bubble insulated against the world.

Everyone else has come and gone. New faces, new teammates, new linemates, new management - but there was always _Alex_. He never needs to look to know he’s there a force of nature in his own right with a gravitational pull that had caught Nicke so long ago and that he’d never wanted to free himself from; orbiting around the blinding star that is Alexander Mikhailovich Ovechkin.

Nicke reaches up to cup his jaw, fitting his hand to the curve of his neck and the fluttering pulse that beats beneath it, and Alex leans forwards until he rests his forehead against Nicke’s. This time his smile is softer, private and fond, and saved just for Nicke. “I love you. It was always going to be you.” Nicke says frankly, eyes bright. “Every moment of your life you deserved this, to stand here and hold that Cup.” The Cup, the world - it all belongs to them. And no one can take it away.

For all the rest of time, every morning when he wakes and every night when he sleeps, he will always have this.

They will always be Champions.


End file.
